


Whether the Willow Can Love or Not

by hwe (plumroot)



Series: Love For Another More [4]
Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, China, M/M, absolutely historically inaccurate, back at it again!, opium kingpin! junhwe and desirable! donghyuk, peak of my foolassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 06:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14158689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumroot/pseuds/hwe
Summary: "Whether the willow can love or not,Never a time when it does not dance."Willow - Li Shangyin





	Whether the Willow Can Love or Not

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is part of the 1930s verse of Love For Another More.
> 
> If you haven't already, read [One Inch of Love is One Inch of Ash](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664865) before proceeding to this. Or maybe do it the other way around. That could be interesting.

We will put it like this:

       Junhwe feels the most intimate with Donghyuk when the latter is singing and swaying his dainty little hips on the brightly lit stage, deliberately meeting eyes with everyone in the night club other than Junhwe, seated in a plush armchair at the centre of the floor. It's masochistic, but  _god_  does it make Donghyuk more desirable than Junhwe could ever dream about.  Face lightly powdered, glimmering ruby shading the corners of his eyes, glossy lips curving in a glacé smile, and a sleek, bewitching gaze, Donghyuk gives just enough. Enough to make you believe that moment when he looks at you is yours, and yours only. Enough to make you think that you're in love with him.

       Wen Zhang is mumbling in Junhwe's ear, something about a nuisance at one of the opium houses, but Junhwe dismisses him distractedly and reaches for his glass, attention still affixed on the stage. Donghyuk blows a kiss, and everyone swoons. There is still a line of people outside, waiting to come in for a glimpse of Canton's sweetheart. The audience applauses adoringly, the orchestra moves to the next song. Donghyuk gracefully bows, his performance has ended, and Junhwe is still in love with him.

       Everything else can wait.

 

*

 

When Junhwe enters Donghyuk's dressing room later that evening, the performer is wiping make-up off his face before the brightly lit vanity, pink silken robe half sliding off his milky back. He sees Junhwe through the mirror, and without acknowledging the visitor continues wiping his cheek.

       "Ming told me you have a sore throat. You don't have to perform if you're sick. You know that."

       Junhwe pours himself a glass of scotch and takes a seat on the mahogany sofa behind Donghyuk.  Other than that sofa, a vanity, and clothing rack, the dressing room is empty and lacks any visible characteristics indicating it is used by Donghyuk. Perhaps that is the characteristic itself.

      The first time Junhwe visited Donghyuk in his dressing room was after he acquired The Red Door. It was after Donghyuk's performance one night. Junhwe came in with a bouquet of magnolias and a bottle of vintage baijiu wrapped in a gold-rimmed red ribbon. He had been pretty obvious with his feelings, showering expensive gifts he later learned Donghyuk never accepted. But in case it wasn’t enough, he thought he ought to try being direct about it.

       However, all Donghyuk did was toss the flowers into the trash can, and then without a word pressed Junhwe against the cold wall and got down on his knees. After he finished, he rinsed his mouth with the vintage liquor and spat it back out into a glass. "That's all you wanted, right?" he asked, wiping the corner of his wet lip, before leaving.

       Donghyuk looks at Junhwe for the first time that night, through the reflection of the mirror. He offers a smile, as cold and hollow as if he had not offered one at all. "Thank you for your concern, boss."

       Junhwe sips his drink in silence, plainly watching through the mirror. Donghyuk stands up, letting his robe fall of his body as he saunters to the clothing rack.

       "I want you to perform at a birthday party next week."

       Donghyuk flicks through the shirts, picking out a white button-up. "Are you asking me, or telling me?"

       "I am asking," Junhwe answers, putting his glass down as Donghyuk slips into the shirt but leaves the buttons undone. "It's for the mayor."

       "Oh,  _that_  dirty bastard."

       "Sorry?"

       Donghyuk stares straight at Junhwe, with a smile so pretty it is almost sinister. "Can you keep a secret?" 

       There is no longer an intelligible line between what is real and what is fake when it comes to men like Donghyuk, who live their lives beneath a mask of fatal beauty and pleasing gestures. Maybe once, or twice, there is a slight crack in this façade, where the glint in his eye dissolves or the airy laughter sounds like it genuinely comes from within him, but a second later the mask is back on and he is still the alluring Donghyuk who is wanted by all but owned by none. And if Junhwe is here, falling in love with a lie, then so is every other man in Canton.

       Junhwe stays motionless as Donghyuk approaches him and sits on his lap. He leans close to Junhwe, so that his warm mouth is practically brushing the shell of Junhwe's ear. "The mayor told me once that I am prettier than his wife. That he would fuck me over her any day." Donghyuk's sweet breath fans the side of Junhwe's face. In spite of the repulsive words he utters so deliberately, the soft thrum of his voice still makes Junhwe's heart thump. "That when he is fucking her, he closes his eyes and imagines my face."

       Junhwe's head feels hot, his hands start quivering but all he can do is keep them balled tightly by his sides. He parts his mouth, and although he wasn't going to say anything anyway Donghyuk beats him by pressing a finger against his lips. "Shh… I said it's a secret, darling."

       Junhwe remains still.

       Donghyuk seems satisfied, or maybe this no longer entertains him. With a sigh, he climbs off Junhwe's lap and saunters back to the clothing rack. He takes off the button-up and puts on a different shirt. "So, to answer you, sure. I'll perform at the party."

  

*

 

"He won't ever forgive you. You know that, right?"

       Junhwe and Wen Zhang, brothers in arms, an entire empire built on the two of their backs. In an act of selflessness Junhwe took a near-lethal bullet for Wen Zhang, and out of gratitude Wen Zhang swore he would stay by Junhwe's side to serve as his subordinate. He wouldn't speak like this to Junhwe, although not because he regards Junhwe as his superior. Rather because he knows it would break Junhwe's heart. But for some, it only takes a couple of bottles to be honest.

       "I know." Junhwe feels incredibly sober.

       "You're a drug dealer. You killed his sister. You can't change that."

       "I know."

       "What if he tells you he won't ever love you back? Has he done that? What if. What if he says to stop obsessing over him, because he will never love you back. That you are a fucking drug dealer, a murderer, and you will never be better than that. If he wants money and attention there are lines of other men willing to give it to him. What if he says that? Will you still love him?"

       Wen Zhang's face is buried in the table, seemingly having tired himself out shouting at Junhwe.  Junhwe clinks his shot glass against his friend's, in a limp grip inside his hand. "I can try, can't I."

 

*

 

At the end, no matter how impressive the array of vintage alcohol is, or the futile extravagance of the decorations, or even what the mayor says or does in his drunken stupor, the only thing that guests at the mayor's birthday party will remember, over the feigned polite conversation and almost theatrical flaunting of wealth, will be Donghyuk and Donghyuk only.

       Junhwe knows it. The pretty wives of the notable businessmen and government officials know it. But nothing can stop them, too, from being captivated by the allure of the performer when he steps out from behind the velvet curtain and sings to the red-faced mayor in his signature saccharine tone. Amidst it all, the mayor starts woozily garbling a confession of love, to which Donghyuk pretends to blush in response to, and his wife, flustered, tries to suppress.

       Between small exchanges with other guests Junhwe keeps a keen eye on Donghyuk, like always. He expects him to return backstage after his performance, by way of maintaining the romantic aura of mystery surrounding him, but he doesn’t. Instead, he ambles through the crowd in considered movements, pausing for an acknowledgement here and there.

       Onstage, Donghyuk is a beloved singer, a sex symbol, a dazzling fantasy under a set of twinkling stage lights. Offstage, he is merely an entertainer.

       In other words, a whore.

       Greetings are slight and reserved, many preferring their interaction with the performer to be within the restrictions of their own private sanctuary. Maybe Junhwe is like every other man in the room, nothing more than a slave to lust; not foolish enough to think he can have Donghyuk completely but greedy enough to want to try. Maybe Junhwe only loves Donghyuk because he knows he can't have him.

       Maybe everyone does.

       Yet while Junhwe nurses his warm alcohol over these lonely thoughts, somewhere in the night club, like an untouchable dream Donghyuk giggles prettily, causing hearts to flutter, and he continues to be, nevertheless.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, my love. I wish you the best birthday of all birthdays. May you be happy and healthy and continue pursuing what you love. You are doing great. Thanks for it [all](https://78.media.tumblr.com/68611a9e541c61f44711c8f5eb005087/tumblr_p5fp3aTWSY1qd37xoo5_400.jpg). I'm also sorry about this.


End file.
